The Final Curtain Call
by i.paint.the.sky
Summary: Written for the 2004 Spring Ficlet Challenge at lovetrowa.  A pair spends their last night performing together.  Oneshot.


This fic was written for the 2004 Spring Ficlet Challenge from the lovetrowa Yahoo! Group.  It is dedicated to Raletha, the originator of the challenge and one of my favourite GW authors.   Special thanks to Trebs/Akot for beta-ing

****

**Final Curtain Call**

****

            The knife flew fast, cutting through the air.  It hit hard into the board, mere centimeters away from spilling blood.  It was soon joined by another and another, each falling just short of injury.  The crowd sat frozen in silence, watching the performance in awe.  More and more blades leapt from the young woman's hands, sailing towards the clown, surrounding his statue-like form. 

            The act drew onward to its end, until only one knife remained.  The woman stood still for a moment, concentrating on the target.  She readied herself for the throw, then let it loose.  A collective gasp arose, as all could see the weapon fly towards the clown's head.  Its full release was stopped though, ended by the swift movement of a hand.  The clown had caught the knife, milliseconds before it would have ended his life.

            The crowd was on its feet even before the pair took their bows.  They were still in an uproar long after the performers had left the ring, leaving their replacements to attempt and outdo them.

            "So…I think they liked it," Trowa said as he laid down his clown mask.

            "Of course they liked it," replied Cathy, who was putting away her knives.  "The last catch at the end was a brilliant idea.  When did you learn to do that?"

            "Back around the time that your knife did hit me."

            Cathy spun around to face him.  "You think that's funny?  You almost scared me to death back then.  I still don't understand why you didn't move.  And don't give me any of that 'I'm not paid to move' crap.  It was damned terrifying."

            "Dodge."

            "What?"

            "I'm not paid to dodge."

            "Shut up, Trowa."

            He laughed slightly and soon was joined by his almost-sister.    

            After their amusement died down, Cathy sighed.  "You know, I don't know what's going to happen to you without me watching you every minute.  You're just hopeless on your own."

            "Don't worry about me, Cathy.  I know how to take care of myself."

            "Oh, I know you can deal with basic needs…but how do you expect to have any fun without me in your life?"

            "Hmm…you raise a good point.  I guess I'll just have to tear you away from married life every so often, so things don't get too dull."

            "I suppose that could be arranged…mind you, don't do it too often."

            "I won't."

            They fell into silence as the exited the tent towards the waiting car.

            "Well," Cathy started, "I guess this is it.  Time for me to go."

            "Looks like it."

            "I'll miss you, little brother."

            "And I'll miss you, big sister."

            Cathy smiled, then pulled Trowa into a tight hug.  "You know, I'm just kidding.  I know you'll be just fine without me." 

            "I know."

            She released him and started walking towards the vehicle.  "Well, I better not keep him waiting any longer.  And Trowa."

            "Yes?"

            "No self-detonating while I'm away, promise?"

            "I promise.  Have a wonderful honeymoon."

            Cathy got into the car and shut the door.  The engine started up, the wheels began to turn, and soon she was driving away.  Trowa watched until the taillights were mere fireflies in the distance.  Then he went back towards the tent, to give the lions their supper.

            He was in the middle of doing just that when his newfound solitude was disturbed.  But it was a welcome disturbance, in the form of a young, blond man.  Trowa turned to face him.

            "So, you came," he said

            "Of course I came," Quatre said with a smile.  "I wouldn't miss it for the world.  After all, this is my last chance to see you in those ridiculous pants." 

            Trowa gave a short laugh.  "This coming from the guy who spent the war wearing pink."

            "There's nothing wrong with the colour pink.  Besides, we won, didn't we?  Maybe it's a lucky colour."

            "Whatever you say."

            "After all," Quatre continued, "what happened the minute I went into battle without it?  I got run through with a sword."

            Trowa nodded, then turned back to the animals, crouching down to gently pat one of the lionesses on the head.  Quatre crouched down to join him, though he kept his hands safely tucked away.

            "So, what are your plans now?  What lies in the future of Trowa Barton?"

            "Well, first I'm visiting you in L4…"

            "I know that, obviously.  But you're not staying forever."

            "I'm not really sure what I'll do next.  I was planning on traveling a bit, enjoying this 'peaceful' world we created."

            "That sounds lovely.  I wish I had time for such an endeavor, but sadly I'm a bit busy.  But that's ok, because it will be nice enough just to see you some more.  It's been too long since we spent any time together."

            "Yes, it has.  But as you said, you've been busy, and so have I.  Being in the circus isn't as easy as people seem to think it is."

            "Will you miss it?  I know you love being around animals, and where else are you going to use your acrobatic skills?"

            "Oh, I can think of many other uses for tight ropes."     

            Quatre blinked, the shook his head with a laugh.  Sometimes his friend had the oddest sense of humour.

            Trowa had already packed all his belongings, which fit inside a large duffel bag which he now slung across his shoulders.  After with final pat to the eldest lion, he left the cages and headed towards the ring.  The show had been over for awhile, leaving him a solitary figure.  His gaze traveled over his surroundings: the plain stands, the high trapeze, the brightly-coloured trampoline.  He smiled wryly as his eyes fell along the tightrope's path.  And finally he looked over at the well-worn target, covered in holes carved by knife tips.  If one looked really carefully, they could see another marking: the silhouette of Trowa's body, the place his shadow had blocked from being faded by the bright circus lights.  It was his own mark, surrounded by those belonging to Cathy. 

            "Ready to go?" Quatre called out, as he entered the ring.  "Everything's ready, all that's left is you.  So, can we leave now?"

            Trowa took one last scan of the ring, then turned and headed towards his friend.  "Yes, I'm ready."  He was just about to leave, but before he did he stopped, turning towards the stands again.

            And took his final bow.


End file.
